


Two Times You Thought You Met Your Soulmate (and one time you did)

by Marzos



Category: Carmilla - All Media Types
Genre: F/F, Soulmate-Identifying Marks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-23
Updated: 2015-06-23
Packaged: 2018-04-05 17:44:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,892
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4189068
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Marzos/pseuds/Marzos
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Based off this prompt: </p><p>Soulmate AU where first words said to each other are represented with pictures and Laura's like "I am so sorry but not really because my first words to you are me calling you a dick and so you’ve gone through 300 years of life with one on your wrist"</p>
            </blockquote>





	Two Times You Thought You Met Your Soulmate (and one time you did)

The first time you think you’ve met your soulmate is your first day of college. The floor don is giving a speech to all of the freshman, about this or that, or whatever–you had kind of zoned out. 

But then everyone is leaving, and the floor don–Perry–looks at you and asks, “Sweetheart, don’t you want to see your new room?” 

Your mind short circuits. She’s out the door, and you run after her. 

“Wait!” 

She turns around, looking concerned. “What’s wrong?” 

“I…look…you called me sweetheart…that’s the first time we spoke…” You lift your sleeve, showing her your right wrist. There’s a small, red heart there. 

Okay, she isn’t what you expected, but she seems nice and she’s pretty, so you’re just happy that you  _did it,_ you  _found her,_ and now all of those jerks who told you it was ‘just a phase’ can go suck it. 

You’re smiling at her hopefully, and Perry looks confused for a moment, before she realizes what you said. 

“Oh, honey, I’m sorry. You’re wrong.” 

“What? But–” 

She lifts her sleeve. There’s no soulmark. 

“…I remember it was a yellow pail,” she says, “They asked me to play in the sandbox when we were both five.” 

You’re more embarrassed than you’ve ever been in your  _life,_ but on the bright side, you end up making two good friends out of it. She introduces you to her soulmate, someone named LaFontaine. You all bond in the common room over coffee and Perry’s cookies. 

“Don’t you know how they work?” LaFontaine asks, “If Perr  _was_ your soulmate, the mark would have burned and started to fade away.” 

You shrug, taking a cookie. “Dad never taught me a lot about soulmarks.” 

Your mother died before you could even remember her. Some people got new soulmarks when their soulmate died, you know that much. But Dad’s stayed empty. The strongest, kindest man you know, only having one soulmate. It still makes you angry when you think about it. You could see him being reminded of that fact whenever he saw your wrist, leading you to hiding it around him with wrist bands and long sleeves. 

The knowledge you have of soulmarks is limited to TV and books. 

“Seriously?” LaFontaine says, laughing, “Oh, frosh, you have been  _woefully_ misinformed if that’s where you’re getting your info.” 

“Why?” 

“Soulmates are fucking difficult work. When you find them it’s not all perfect forever because  _we’re soulmates._ Soulmates still get divorced, they still have problems, and a lot of times you might be soulmates with someone who you have to work like Hell with to make it work.” 

“But, you and Perry. You met when you guys were  _five._ ” 

It’s Perry who answers. “LaF and I have had our problems,” she says, sitting down next to her on the couch, “Mostly caused by me.” 

They look at her, taking her hand. “ _But,_ I could have been more understanding too, sometimes,” they finish, “And you came through for me in the end, Perr. The point is, frosh, that if you’re hoping to find your soulmate and live happily ever after…well, it’s a little more complicated than that.” 

You  _know,_ on a mental level you get it, but their words don’t stop the twinge of ache, of jealousy as Perry and LaF settle together on the couch as if (well, not as if, they’re soulmates) born to sit on the couch with their arms around each other and hands clasped. 

Your home didn’t have that. You grew up sheltered; there was no one close to you in your life that had that. So, you want it. You’ve wanted ever since you knew what your soulmark was, ever since you learned why Dad didn’t have one even though he wasn’t married. For Dad, you want to find your soulmate yesterday. 

“You can’t rush soulmates, dear,” Perry says, “Give it time, and keep an open mind. It will happen.” 

Easy for Miss Childhood-Sweethearts to say. 

* * *

 

The second time you think you’ve met your soulmate is when you meet your English TA. 

Her name is Danny. She talks to the entire class about class procedures and rules while you’re distracted by her jawline. 

The professor jumps right into working, and you start scratching a pen to paper. It’s fifteen minutes later that you realize that Danny is reading over your shoulder. 

“Sorry! Did you want to take my paper?” You say, straightening from your hunched over position. Danny shakes her head quickly. 

“No, no. I just–I really love your interpretation of Beowulf. I haven’t seen anyone else go that direction before.” 

She tapes a finger on your paper, and you blush. 

She  _loves_ your interpretation. 

Your mark is a heart. 

And, whatever your feeling–well, it’s not exactly in your wrist, but it’s kind of a burning, isn’t it?

You talk to her after class. 

“Danny, I don’t mean to be weird, but your soulmark, what is…?” 

She looks at you and smiles. “I was about to ask you the same thing.” 

She reveals it; a piece of paper. 

You asking her if she wanted to see your paper. 

When you show her your wrist, and explain it to her, she smiles warmly. 

“…Want to meet up later and talk?” 

“Sure!” 

She’s everything you thought your soulmate would be; beautiful, smart, kind–she can’t  _not_ be your soulmate. 

LaFontaine, however, is not convinced. 

“Has your mark faded yet?” 

You squint at the heart. “I think it got a little lighter?” 

“It’s taking awhile, then, frosh.” 

“Well, what do you know? It’s been over ten years since you  _had_ a soulmark.” 

“Laura, dear, lay off her,” Perry answers, busily cleaning your room–your roommate is apparently coming in late. Whatever. “We just don’t want to see you waste your time. If your mark isn’t fading, neither is hers.” 

You stay silent. 

“Forcing soulmates never works out well, honey. I wouldn’t want to see you get hurt trying.” 

“Well–well, you know what? I’m not trying, she  _is_ my soulmate. My mark is going to start disappearing. I know it.” 

It doesn’t. You meet Danny for pie, hiding it under sleeves. You notice Danny is wearing long sleeves, too. 

The date is fantastic. Sparkling conversation. Danny is as amazing as you initially thought–you’d go as far as to say she’s ‘chivalrous’. So you meet again. And again. 

But, you never actually get  _together._ Every time either of you are about to try–the perfect moment is there, it’s time to say goodbye–you can’t go through with it. You know why. It’s wrong. It’s wrong to do this when you know that, eventually, you’re both going to meet somebody else chosen by the universe. And how could you compete with the universe? 

One day, you finally lift your sleeve for her. She smiles softly. 

“…I guess we’ve both been fooling ourselves, huh?” 

“Yeah. Yours hasn’t either?” 

“No. Of course not. I’m sorry. You’re so fantastic, Laura. Whoever is your soul mate is going to be really lucky.” 

You both stay great friends. Later a boy in your class she’s complained about before asks her a question about a due paper. Danny slaps a hand to her wrist and winces. So does he.

You’ve never seen it in person, before. You also feel really bad for Danny, because  _seriously,_ how is this going to work? 

“…Shit. I guess we need to talk later.” Danny and Kirsch glare at each other. Maybe there was some truth to that ‘not all fun and games’ speech LaFontaine gave after all. 

* * *

 

You meet your soulmate a week later when your roommate finally starts school. She’s already there when you walk in. And has succeeded in trashing her side of the room with dirty clothes and ransacking your fridge for cookies. 

“You  _dick,_ those are mine! And who the Hell are you?” 

“I’m your new roommate, sweetheart.”

You gasp and grab your wrist. 

It’s a feeling unlike any you’ve ever experienced. The heart is cold now, so cold that it’s burning, and little ants are crawling across your skin. When the feeling finally,  _finally_ calms, you see that the once vibrant red of the picture has already started to dull. 

_No._

You look at her. She walked over to the bed, laying her arm on the bedspread, palm face up. She looks at her wrist. 

“You felt it too,” you say softly. 

“Three hundred fucking years…” She breathes, “Wait. That means–oh Hell, what?  _You_?” 

“I literally _just_ called you a dick, do you think I’m happy about this?” 

Yeah, you definitely imagined this going differently. And wait. “What do you mean, three  _hundred_ years?” 

“Well, since we’re apparently spending the rest of our lives–or yours, to be more accurate–together, you should know that I’m a vampire.” 

She says it so plain and matter-of-factly, that you need to sit down. 

“I…I’m sorry. It’s just, I waited my whole life wanting to meet my soulmate, and now here you are, and…and no offense, but you’re not at all what I expected and  _vampire what the Hell can the universe not give me a break.”_

Your soulmate–wow, still so weird to say, and even though you don’t feel too hot you have to admit it excites you–raises an eyebrow. “Sorry you’re disappointed, sweetheart.” 

“No. Wait,” you lean closer. “ _Different_ doesn’t necessarily mean  _bad._ I don’t know anything about you other than your affinity for stealing food.” 

“Possession is nine-tenths, cutie.” She answers, then sighs. “Okay, let’s  _try again._ What was your picture?” 

You pull up your sleeve to reveal the still visible but rapidly fading mark. “Calling me sweetheart. See? You?” 

“Not important.” 

“Oh,  _yes it is.”_

 _“_ Sorry.” 

“Can I guess?” 

“No.” 

“Well, my first words to you were ‘you dick’…whoa.” Your eyes widen and a grin spreads across your face. “It wasn’t…” 

“Shut up.” 

“It  _is!_ Let me see! Before it fades!” 

“Over my undead body.” 

Well, you’re soulmates, you don’t think there’s anything wrong with getting into her personal space. You jump off your bed, pouncing on her and grabbing one of her cufflinks. 

“HEY, don’t you  _dare–”_

 _“_ VICTORY!” You yell, throwing it to the side and pinning her arm. There it is. 

“You went  _three hundred_ years with a dick on your wrist?” 

“…It’s especially hard to explain when you’re a lesbian.” 

“I am so sorry you didn’t meet me sooner,” you answer, “But, not really. Because this is hilarious.” 

“I’m falling for you already, cupcake.” 

You still have her arm pinned down. Impulsively–you’ll hopefully do this a lot more–you lean down and press a kiss to the picture before it fades away. You let go, still kneeling on her legs. Your soulmate looks kind of shocked. 

“You should know, that is the one and only time I will ever willingly put my mouth on a dick.” 

She bursts into laughter, covering her face, and you think, okay, maybe this  _will_ work. She’s beautiful, and her laugh is kind of nice, and maybe she’s not as bad as first impressions suggest. 

How could she be, after all? She’s  _your_ soulmate. 

“So,” she finally says, settling on her elbows to look you in the eyes, “What do I call my  _dashing maiden fair_ who relieved me of this curse?” 

**Author's Note:**

> Follow me at Marzo2theletter.tumblr.com for more hollstein drabbles.


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